Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just pull the strings baby. (Hell, I don't own anything… pity me, don't sue me.) For you shall never get your hands on my Manga collection. And if you happen to be from Square… I draw pretty; can I have a job? …Thankyou.

Pointless but obligatory warning: Violence = shed loads. Shounen-ai = er, I'm not telling? Yaoi = It's a surprise. Spoilers = Horrible, early nineties, in the same league as fluffy dice when not gracing a Viper. References = if you haven't played the game, why are you here? This contains bad poetry, mixed metaphors, obscure Japanese idioms and naughty language. Read at your own peril, for your own good, and with the light turned on.

All references, Japanese and other junk could well be explained, eventually, if I can be bothered.

Ketsueki, Sakura, Yuki

Koibito… Hihou, sasayaki to aenaku…

Our hearts, our hearts

We tore apart

In mutual pain and shared despair.

I died with you, but kept his soul

For hope, for us, he helped me through.

But he has gone

With his fair rose

In my recall last purpose lay,

For I regained my seraph self

The night I liberated you.

And of her dreams

I hold the shade.

Behind the veil of lies, she saw.

But life is short for martyrs. Aye,

And sadly, death rejects we two.

My childhood's dance,

False past unmasked,

My Lady of the Garnet Eyes

Is long since passed, and of our child,

Upon my wings of black she flew.

Alone, Alone

I journey on,

Through icy eyes, I see my doom.

Our future I devise, once more,

The contract signed in blood long due.

…Aishiteru

//~*~ An Angel's Whisper. ~*~//

//By Me!// //Like anyone would wanna pinch it anyhow…?//

Prologue

You cannot put the Blossom back on the branch…

It was another bitterly cold night, as many were, hidden deep between the bleak spires of rock that encircled this town like a prison of thorns.

Around the huddled rustic buildings weak candle lamps rocked ruefully from their posts, their chains all in shrieking disharmony. But such tiny flames cast little illumination across the mountains' black fingers as they strained, unendingly, to grasp at the full silver moon. In return, it enticed the dying stone with what it craved and devoured, teasing pure but borrowed light across the hellish claws.

Thus, the ground was washed in silver and midnight, painted with the torn shadows of petrified, brittle trees that screamed like spirits in the mountain winds; mourning what piteous life was stolen from them so long ago. Between such claustrophobic stone walls, the sky at least was dazzling, but also unchanging, as always, in his presence.

Stars glittered across the deep blue void in countless pinpricks of coloured light. And purple clouds, dark bruises, bloomed around the vicious, needle-like summit of Mt. Nibel.

Besides the wailing wind, one visiting soul weathered, with typical composure, the constant rattle of the mansion gate crashing against the wall, pulling on ancient oilless hinges. As he slipped through the rotting iron portal, he paused briefly to mark the distant lament of a wolf, which echoed almost sympathetically to another, closer, sobbing. It was the sound he was also drawn inexorably towards. For somewhere in the graveyard garden of the Mansion, something, someone, was crying. A soft voice that drifted incongruously through the forest of ivy draped gravestones.

Most found it hard to believe that this place had not always been a graveyard; although it's position in the town had been a crypt even before the construction of the Mansion. It seemed this place was a magnet for the inhuman. It was a ghost town, nightmare by its very nature the gatehouse of Hades' Palace. Still, he had returned, and with a purpose. Passing through the garden, the dark figure paused occasionally to read an inscription with cold detachment. Though he was long past mourning for anyone in this world, it was obvious why another found sorrow at the sight, for the soul he sought would weep for the dead; would weep for lost love, in innocence until the day the planet died. Turning, the visitor confirmed the source of the tears, and headed toward it with no further hesitation.

And as he expected, the shadow beneath one particularly ornate rood stirred in a way that would, perhaps, be imperceptible to any normal human as he approached. It sighed, and like an illusion, became a living creature. Curled around the engraved marble, the tiny wraith now sat and tangled roses so blood red they appeared black between long, elegant fingers. Pale arms draped lovingly around the plinth, perfect within their ornaments of bangles and bandages, and shimmering teardrops streaked the stone.

Dark was certain; this was the one for whom he was searching.

"I was not sure that I would find you, until I saw the stars." Whispered the intruder, silently drifting among the skeletons of oak leaves to sit on the edge of a nearby grave, his metal clad boots quietly clinking as he folded long legs beneath a crimson cape. Head tilted in curiosity as he observed his friend, he found himself slowly succumbing to the sadness. It would be a mistake to do so, as it was a force far removed from simple human emotion. If a place had karma, this town was the black hole of despair.

The small figure sniffed, and nearly laughed in a half-hearted attempt to throw off melancholy. Still, there was no move to face the visitor.

"I've been here long enough, …wasn't a secret." Replied a gentle young voice, unusually weary from crying. The sound was almost enough to break his heart, and still they sat unmoving for what seemed an age, silence falling like a shroud as the first few snowflakes drifted onto the carpet of leaves.

Eventually, the shadow unfurled, slowly unfolding itself, becoming a little more human. The black trenchcoat slid around a slender figure and fell around sturdy black boots as he stood, brushing dead leaves from the antique leather. Now, as the shadows fell from his shoulders, moonlight revealed a shock of frosted blond hair, pulled loosely into a ponytail that fell to his waist. Long, wild spikes framed his eternally youthful face, slightly feminine features sharp and prominent through delicate skin. In the moonlight, Light was abnormally and inhumanly beautiful.

Iridescent blue eyes, soft now and slightly bloodshot from tears, sparkled behind long dark lashes as Light smiled hesitantly. Still, the sadness remained, like a veil that had become heavier with time. Something Dark himself had alluded to, though a thousand times less intense. And upon such a creature, he felt, it seemed so terribly wrong. He saw his own past shadows mirrored within, and his own humanity cowered at the sight. A dark mirror, embracing and protecting a million lost souls. This being was all those things, and that was terrifying to those who were not blind to the glamour of prevarication.

He could not help but stare, grateful for the long black tresses that obscured his own crimson gaze as the object of his attention, his appearance still barely more than eighteen years, casually slung a long white sword over his shoulder. Re-sheathing the slim double-edged blade. Then softly, silently, stepped between the stones, like a cat.

"I'm …okay now," the boy whispered. The ghost of a smile passed across his features, but without touching his eyes. "I thank you for answering, Vincent Valentine."

Accepting the small shard of hope in those words, as a starving dog would snatch at the illusion of a bone Vincent nodded, his hair falling further across his face. He wouldn't dare to blink as a small, cold hand brushed away the ebon strands, gently tilting his chin upwards. Crimson eyes drifted towards blue, and for a moment he fancied himself able to see galaxies within.

"Why am I here?" He asked, his voice catching in his throat as embarrassment began to colour his pale skin. It was becoming easier to resist the urge to break their gaze, just to watch the patterns of light ripple across those deep blue pools while the boy read his every thought as if it were a murderer's confessional.

"Everyone passes through here, sooner or later." The boy replied, then shrugged, moving away again and turning his back.

Dropping his head further in a sudden consuming wave of shame, for his soul had been laid naked for that one moment and he feared what might have shown, Vincent was confused at such an indifferent reaction. He pulled himself out of his guilty muse as an odd thought struck him; his friend was not entirely serious. Strange, that he could usually read people so well but had never seen beneath the surface of those eyes, although this was a special case, admittedly. With all the swordsman's inherent unpredictability, his actions hid his thoughts well, and layered deception upon uncertainty. He was being foolish just to believe the child would reject him. He never hurt anyone, and seemed oblivious to the faults of others.

It was obvious. He already knew anyway, why bother reacting.

"That is beside the point." Vincent replied, smiling beneath the edge of his collar. Oh, it had been such a very long time since he'd seen the boy, and already it seemed too long. "Why did I come here, to this place."

Truly, of the entire planet, only Nibelheim was as desolate as this. The gate of hell itself, and its guardian was a child. Vincent had once 'lived' there, a long time ago, and it brought back a lot of memories. Most of them were not Kodak moments. Or even slightly pleasant, or on their way to being pleasant. This was not a pleasant town.

"I don't know, I can't force you to do anything,"

An answer, but not likely the last. Silence fell once again, simply to be broken by the clatter of zips and buckles, as a heavy boot sent pure, new snow billowing chaotically into the chilled air. A black and white cloud.

"But you may apply a peculiar gravity, and I have arrived." Vincent argued, his contemplation following the path of disturbed leaves. "Unfortunately a summons rarely reveals any intention beyond attendance. Cloud, if you need help…"

Silently, Cloud stalked around the back of a statue, a stone angel whose features were amazingly unmarred by the oppression of time. He disappeared from view, and until the sound of rippling laughter drew Vincent's bemused stare upwards, it was as if he had never been there at all. Cradled between the carved stone wings, a seraph finally graced the vampire with an honest smile.

"There is something I must do, for myself at last." Cloud sighed, his permanently bandaged hands languidly caressing the Grecian features of the marble angel. Nodding again, Vincent studied the sculpted mask himself and found it rather overshadowed.

"Vincent, I just wondered if you would accompany me for a while. I think… I know, I will need someone beside me, and I once considered you among my closest friends." He admitted, turning serious and a little timid. "I still do."

His eyes, they never revealed a thing until that moment, reflecting everything in stars or snowflakes. But for a moment they became human, more than human, and so full of sadness even Vincent couldn't hope to hold their gaze.

Vincent pulled his cape tighter around his shoulders, feeling the chill wind now, as it whipped his long hair across his face. Unfolding his long legs, he dropped into the snow. He thought a little on this unexpected supplication, watching each snowflake as it fell. Cloud was seemingly unbothered by the weather, or his older companion's thoughtful silence, more enthralled by the patterns in the crystals. Each tiny flake was eliciting more emotion than he normally granted, his smile as innocent as a child's.

"Yes." Vincent replied, "It would be pleasant to keep your company for a while. Eternity is a lonely business, after all."

Smiling again, in an odd, wise way that Vincent rarely ever saw, Cloud dropped lightly from his perch. "If only you knew, Vincent Valentine. Perhaps you should question yourself further before accepting my request."

Vincent matched step as he began walking toward the gate, slightly bemused by his friend's statement, but unable to inquire further for fear of breaking the fragile mood. It did not matter for the time being, he'd long ago discovered that he would find out what he needed when it was important to know.

New snow crunched softly beneath two pairs of metal-soled boots, and began to take on a warm orange tint with the dawn.